


Way down we go

by TheBlackHorizon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dissociation, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Oneshot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackHorizon/pseuds/TheBlackHorizon
Summary: It was the middle of the night and Jon was on the floor in the kitchen with no idea how he had gotten there.Hell had broken loose in his mind.Nothing was okay.





	

It was the middle of the night and he sat on the kitchen floor without knowing how he'd gotten there. But he was there, listening to the rythmic dripping of the tap, gaze glued onto the monochrome tiles, and it was okay. A full night of sleep had become rare and precious, but there was no job he would have to be at in the morning, they had sent him on leave, and it was okay. The world seemed dulled, as if everything was covered by a thick haze which seemed eternal, luring everything into its drowsiness and sharp movements sent him on edge, but he was here, in the secluded calmness of his apartment, and it was okay.

A lightswitch clicked and slow footsteps came padding towards him, a floorboard creaked and suddenly it was not okay. His body moved on its own, scrambling backwards until his back collided with the handle of a drawer. White light so bright it hurt flashed behind his eyelids and his fingers coiled into his hair. Reality didn't exist anymore, like a flame blown out be the wind.

 

_...broken bones scrunched...dust burned in his lungs...a body before him, wide, unseeing eyes staring at him...blood pooling from pink lips...blood turned to ash and tears into streams of maggots cascading down porcelain cheeks...screams, so many he lost count..._

 

Underwater.

Cold, dark and silent. The world had tilted at some point and he knew it was not okay but he had no energy left to care. Everything was in a dizzying blur. A touch on his shoulder and a dulled sound but he couldn't make out the words. Another touch, a hand shaking his shoulder and more words, louder this time.

Suddenly things fuzzed into shape, lines and edges became sharp and he could breathe again. It burned.

 

"Jon! Don't do this, come on..."  the sounds made sense and was it...panic? Then it changed "Oh thank the gods." the voice shook with relief.

 

Theon.

 

"Can you hear me?"

 

The tiles were cold against his cheek and only now he realised he was no longer sitting but lying on his side. A breath shuddered from his lungs.

 

"Okay, alright." Theons voice was still on the verge of frantic and he brushed a hand over his face "Can you move?"

 

Without noticing he had curled into himself but slowly he became aware of his body again, heavy like lead and not willing to do anything but exist.

 

"It's okay." Theon cooed although he knew it was not. He lay down next to him with his face towards him "I'm here." Jons eyes were glazed, rimmed in a too bright red and a broken sob fell from his slightly parted lips. Theon felt himself getting dangerously close to tears as well but he willed them back down, this was not the time.

He knew how to handle the situation, had almost gotten used to this and the lone thought of it made him sick. This had happened too often already, too many nights he had found Jon in some random place in the flat, curled up like a frightened child, screaming and sometimes not breathing for minutes. There was no option left for him than to wait it out, stay close until whichever hell had broken loose in his boyfriends mind faded away and left behind an exhausted, frightened shell. Nothing was okay.

Tentatively he reached out and brushed back Jons hair. Touch was difficult, had ended up in bruises more than once but for now it seemed alright. Sometimes he wished he knew what was going on inside Jons mind to understand, to ease the horrors a little but these thoughts had been erased by brutal reality long ago. Irrational fears dominated them now, keeping a firm grip on his mind with claws of ice, fears that one day Jon would just stop existing before his very eyes and be with Ygritte whom he had loved so much. He couldn't say it, wouldn't say it. He knew it was not going to happen, but still, the word never left his lips. They had pulled Jon back from the brink and Theon had held onto him as if his own life was depending on it.

_Death._

"I think we should paint the bedroom, I mean the white is so...white?" he was scared, everytime it happened it threw him off so he rambled nonsense just to block out the realisation of how broken their life was "I mean blue would be nice, with a hint of grey like the ocean at Pyke, think about it." why he fell back on memories of his childhood home he didn't know but the thought of the sea seemed reassuring right now. He had been told that chances were that Jon wasn't aware of a single word he said but it didn't matter, not now, not anymore.

The idea of taking Jon to the Iron Island had been lingering in his mind for quite a while now and with every night that ended like this he became more determined. Away from the ice cold north, from the flat which had long ago become a prison and the memories of shootings and dead partners. Too many reminders of what had been and would never return were scattered in every corner of the city, right before their eyes each and every day so the pain never lessened. Slowly he scooted closer towards his boyfriend and carefully let his arm slide around his shoulders, as if he was touching a frightened animal. When he had first heard that metaphor it seemed abstruse to him but he had learned that it was more fitting than he would ever have thought.

Theon breathed a soft sigh of relief when Jon buried his face in the crook of his neck, away from the light and let out a pained groan. 

 

"You in pain?" he asked softly and kissed the crown of Jons head.

 

"Hm-hm."

 

Completely losing touch with reality wasn't enough, no, throw some headache that would put migraines to shame in with the mix. PTS-fucking-D was ugly and painful and Theon felt like screaming at the unfairness of it all but instead he kissed his boyfriends hair again. No six moths past they had shrugged it off as professional risk. How stupid they had been. "Let's go back to bed."

 

"Yeah."

 

Words. Finally. Words were good, words meant that it was over.

Theon then removed his arm and sat back on his heels before he grasped the other mans hands and watched him pick himself up from the floor at a painfully slow pace. His grip didn't waver when Jon clasped his hands as he breathed through the dizziness. Watching the man he loved struggle tore Theons insides up but he knew, even though he didn't understand why, that it was necessary for him to come back to himself. Terrible things always happen to the others, until you find yourself half-carrying your severely traumatised boyfriend back to bed at half past three in the morning.

Ygritte was dead.

Jons mind cracked more and more each day.

Theon was here and nothing was okay.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I think we all need a tissue box, sorry guys :D 
> 
> Leave a comment if you like -xx


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